We Gotta Get It Right (but We Always Get It Wrong)
by getpitchslapped
Summary: It's a foolproof plan: Impersonate her bother, infiltrate Barden Prep's a cappella team, and kick some aca-butt. Beca just didn't expect to end up playing matchmaker in exchange for it. OR the She's the Man HSAU where Beca is Viola, Jesse is Sebastian, Luke is Duke, Chloe is Olivia, a cappella is soccer, and somehow this became 17.7k words.


_See we gotta get it right, but we always get it wrong_

 _And it be the same old thing and it be the same old song_

 _Trying to fight to survive, trying to fight for our lives_

 _See I'm only trying to live_

 _I don't wanna say goodbye_

* * *

Music is Beca's entire life.

She wakes up to the local pop radio station on her alarm clock; she sings to herself as she showers; she cranks up her favorite Pink Floyd album as she drives to school.

She falls asleep half the time while she's mixing, her favorite pair of Beats still over her ears.

Music keeps her grounded—and keeps her head from flying off of her shoulders—when her mother is being insufferable or her dad is being irresponsible. (Both of which are frequent.)

Beca taps her pencil against her leg in class, scribbling down ideas for mash-ups in the margins of her notes to share at Bellas rehearsal after school.

She never thought she'd be so heavily invested in an a cappella group—hell, she never thought she'd _be_ in an a cappella group. But here she is, singing top 40 hits mashed with 70s rock songs with a bunch of girls and loving every minute of it.

Or she _did_. Until now.

Because—apparently—when not enough people sign up for a program, it gets cut.

Such is life in public-school America.

"You can't _do_ this," Beca had insisted to the principal, but Mrs. Abernathy-McKadden had just waved her hand dismissively.

So Beca did the next logical thing—she asked to join the boys' group.

"You can't be serious," Mr. Smith, the coach of the Footnotes, says laughingly. "Girls in a boys' a cappella group?" He shakes his head. "Women are about as good at singing as they are at driving." He pauses, then adds, "Which is not good. At all."

"You're not even gonna let us audition?" Beca asks indignantly, her teammates chorusing their protests behind her.

"Sorry, young lady," Mr. Smith tells her with a patronizing pat on her shoulder. "Why don't you take some sewing classes to fill your time instead?"

"Yeah, Beca," Beca's boyfriend, Tom, says. Beca glares at him. "You can make our costumes."

"What the hell, Tom?" Beca asks through gritted teeth. He _should_ be on her side.

"Come on, Bec," Tom says, looking at her patronizingly. "You don't honestly think you can join our team, do you? You're a bunch of girls; you can't hit the low notes."

It's all Beca can do not to punch both of them in their stupid, smug faces. "Fuck you, Tom," Beca spits, then turns on her heels. "We're done." The smile slides right off of Tom's face, and his teammates jeer at him playfully. "What?"

"You heard me," Beca says, seething.

"Bec, come on—"

"Let's go, girls," Beca snaps.

She'll figure something out.

* * *

Beca blasts music through her earphones the entire walk home; all she wants to do is lie in bed and feel bad for herself.

She's halfway up the front walk when a hand clamps down on her shoulder and pulls.

Beca whips around to see Aubrey, her twin brother Jesse's— _gag_ —girlfriend.

Beca doesn't know why her brother dates this girl—she's obnoxious, and high-maintenance, and loud, and _rude_.

"Oh, ew," Aubrey says, her nose wrinkling, "it's you. You and Jesse look the same from behind. Or maybe you just look like a boy." She laughs, high and fake-sounding.

"Hey, Aubrey," Beca says mock-sweetly. "How may I help you today? Maybe I can remove the stick from your ass?"

"Cute," Aubrey spits. "Just tell your brother I'm looking for him and that he better call me. _Soon_."

"Sure," Beca says, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "Your number is still 555-SLUT-BAG, right?"

Aubrey just rolls her eyes and heads back to her car.

"Oh good, you're home!" Beca's mom chirps as soon as Beca opens the front door.

"And why is this such a good thing?" Beca asks suspiciously. She and her mother have very different ideas of the word "good"—also "fun" and "annoying."

Beca's mother will be absolutely thrilled to hear that the Bellas have been cut; Beca's pretty sure her mother thinks of her a cappella group as some head-banging, ripped-shirt-wearing, coke-snorting rock band.

She'd know it's nothing like that if she'd just _come_ to one of Beca's a cappella competitions, but there's nothing she can do about that now.

"I got you the perfect dress for the debutante ball," her mom says, and Beca reluctantly follows her voice into the living room.

"If a marshmallow gave a curtain a blow job and then threw up, that's what it would look like," Beca says, eyes widening at the frilly, lacy white dress her mother holds up. "Mom, I've told you a million times that I have no interest in that shit."

"You watch your language, Rebeca," her mom says. "You would look beautiful in this dress, don't you think?"

"Nope," Beca says, popping the "p."

Her mom's shoulders droop. "How did I end up with a daughter who just wants to"—she shudders—"rap _Pitbull_ and stare at her laptop all day?"

"Well, the universe has handed you one, Mom," Beca says, turning back towards the stairs, "because the school cut the Bellas."

"What?" Beca's mom asks, chasing after her. Glee is evident in her voice. "No more a cappella?"

"Yep," Beca confirms.

"How sad," her mom says, rushing after her carrying the dress.

"Yeah, I can see you're devastated," Beca says sarcastically, but her mother ignores her.

"Well, now you have time to find a boy to go with you to the ball," her mom tells her.

Beca waves her hand at her over her shoulder, already going up the stairs. "I'm not going."

She doesn't wait around to hear her mother's response, stomping up the steps louder than necessary.

Beca hears a lot of rustling coming from Jesse's room; she pokes her head in the door to see him frantically packing a large bag—although, really, he's such a slob that that might be his version of cleaning his room.

"Hey, Jess," she says, flopping down on his bed. "Aubrey was looking for you." Jesse grimaces, stuffing a shirt into the bag. "Why do you date her? She's so horrible."

"She's hot," Jesse says, shrugging. "It's a guy thing." Beca rolls her eyes as Jesse throws the bag out of his open window.

"Um, we have a door," Beca points out confusedly.

"Mom can't see me," Jesse tells her conspiratorially. "She thinks I'm at Dad's, Dad thinks I'm here, and in two days they'll both think I'll be at school. Divorce is a beautiful thing."

Jesse is now attending Barden Prep, a private, WASP-y boarding high school, since he'd been kicked out of East High for cutting classes too often. Strangely, her mother had been thrilled; Beca suspected she had been secretly praying for a way to send Jesse there.

Her father hadn't given a shit, of course.

"Where are you going, anyway?" Beca asks, watching Jesse pick up his guitar case and a long rope.

"London," he answers casually.

"Wait a sec," Beca says, shaking her head. "London… As in London, England?"

"That's the one," Jesse says.

"Um, _why_?"

"There's a music festival and my band got a slot." Jesse carefully lowers the guitar to the ground via the rope.

"For how long?" Beca asks.

"Two weeks."

"And… school?" Beca sometimes feels like she's the only one with a brain around here.

"Yeah, can you help me out with that?" Jesse says.

"By doing what, exactly?" Beca's all about breaking rules, but she draws the line at doing anything illegal. Well, at doing anything _really_ illegal—like murder or grand theft auto. She doesn't mind, say, a little trespassing.

Anyway.

"Can you just, like, call Barden? Pretend to be mom, say I'm sick or something?" There's a _thud_ from outside, and Jesse looks out the window. "Whoops."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Beca asks. "You just got kicked out of one school."

"I wanna be a musician, Bec," Jesse says, holding his arms out in a way that's probably supposed to be indignant but kind of makes him look like a slightly unstable penguin. "I don't need to know algebra."

"Okay, whatever," Beca says, raising a hand. "It's your ass, not mine."

"That's the spirit," Jesse says enthusiastically, swinging a leg out the window. "See you in two weeks!" He disappears; a few seconds later, Beca hears something hitting the ground, followed by an, "Ow!"

Beca rolls her eyes; he's going to kill himself one day.

"Were you just talking to your brother?" a voice says, and Beca jumps.

"Um, no, Mom," Beca says, trying her best to sound casual. "He's at Dad's."

Her mother looks at her strangely for a moment and then shrugs. "Sometimes you sound so much like your brother." She turns and walks away.

And then Beca's hit with an idea.

She gets up off of the bed and approaches Jesse's bureau, looking into the mirror. She studies her face, turning it from side to side. _Can I…?_ Beca grabs a random baseball cap off of the dresser and plunks it on her head, tucking her hair out of the way.

 _I think I can_.

It's a long shot, and she might get in _major_ trouble for this, but hear her out:

She goes to Barden posing as Jesse. (How hard can it be, right? Nobody knows her—him—there yet, and it's not like she has to worry about standing out academically or athletically.) She joins their a cappella group—the Treblemakers—and whoops the Footnotes in the upcoming sectional competition. Then she reveals who she really is so she can flip off all of the fuckwads who wouldn't let her join the guys' team.

It's a solid plan.

It does, of course have the potential to go very, very wrong, seeing as impersonating a guy at a boarding school is a lot more complicated than impersonating a guy just during school hours—but what's the worst they can do? Kick her out?

It's a good idea.

* * *

"This is a bad idea."

"Oh, come on," Beca says. "Please?"

"I didn't say no," Stacie says, snapping her gum as her hands continue cutting the hair of the middle-aged woman seated in front of her. Stacie looks up for a moment and studies Beca. "You definitely have the jawline to pull it off."

Beca blinks. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Neither," Stacie says, her fingers moving nimbly though the woman's hair. "Both."

"Um, thanks," Beca says. At least she can always count on Stacie to be honest with her.

"Take a seat over there," Stacie says, gesturing to the row of chairs near the entrance of the salon. "I've only got another twenty minutes before I'm off work."

"Okay." Beca sits down and pulls out her phone to type out a quick text message to her mom: _Staying at Dad's for the next couple of weeks_.

Her phone quickly buzzes with a response. **Mom:** _No you are not, young lady_.

Beca rolls her eyes. Time to do what she does best: bullshit.

 _I was thinking that since Jesse is there that I could spend some time with Aubrey_ , Beca types, grimacing as she does so. She's glad her mother is too wrapped up in herself to pay much attention to her kids, because otherwise she'd know that Beca wouldn't ever voluntarily put herself within ten feet of Aubrey. _Maybe she can show me the ropes with the whole_ —gag— _debutante thing_.

 **Mom:** _That's lovely honey. Have fun with Aubrey!_

 **Mom:** _And don't forget about the carnival next Saturday. You and your brother promised to be there._

"Sucker," Beca mutters to herself, satisfied. Aubrey is the daughter that her mother had always wanted: beautiful (although Beca would rather cut off her own arm than say _that_ out loud) and feminine and all-around debutante material—right down to her snooty attitude. Beca almost feels bad for her mother—she'd ended up with one boy who sleeps for twelve hours out of the day and wears the same shirt for a week straight and a daughter who has never in her life put on a skirt voluntarily. (She says "almost" because her mother is too irritating to be pitied.)

She knows her mom isn't going to be checking her whereabouts; Beca thinks the last time her parents spoke to one another was when Jesse crashed their dad's car into the door of their mom's garage almost two years ago.

Which means that this plan should definitely work.

"Alright, Bec, let's take a look at you," Stacie says several minutes later after her final client leaves. Beca plops down in the chair and looks over the array of wigs and stick-on facial hair on the vanity in front of her. It all looks rather itchy, in her opinion.

"No beards or mustaches," Beca says as Stacie sets to work tucking Beca's hair under a wig. "It'll be too hard to maintain."

"I agree," Stacie says, adjusting the wig. Beca's surprised; it actually doesn't feel too bad. Stacie sticks on some sideburns. "How's that?"

Beca leans closer to the mirror. It looks pretty convincing. "Okay."

Stacie picks up an eyebrow pencil and a couple of false eyebrows.

"What's that for?" Beca asks.

Stacie cocks one of her own eyebrows. "I don't know of any guys with perfect eyebrows."

"My eyebrows _are_ pretty perfect," Beca says. "Just like the rest of me."

Stacie rolls her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a pain in the ass?"

"Only everyone I've ever met." Beca shrugs.

It feels almost like to caterpillars have taken up residence above Beca's eyes, but when combined with the wig and the sideburns, she looks like a dude. (A dude with a lot of eyeliner, maybe, but she can take care of that.)

Stacie steps back to admire her work. "I'm damn good."

"Thank you," Beca tells her as Stacie starts removing all of the embellishments. Once she's done, Beca hops up to leave.

"Whoa, wait a sec," Stacie says.

"What?"

"There's more to being a guy than just looking like one," Stacie says, putting a hand on her hip.

"What do you mean?" Beca asks.

"Well, you have to _act_ like a guy," Stacie says, ticking off her list on her fingers. "And you have to dress like a guy. And you have to talk like a guy. And you have to _think_ like a guy. Also," she says, gently poking Beca in the boob, "we need to do something about these."

Beca bats her hand away. "I'll just get some Ace bandages."

Stacie's eyes widen. "No, don't do that. That can be dangerous."

Beca frowns. "How so?"

"It can make it hard to breathe and it can damage your ribs, among other things," Stacie tells her. "I have a transgender friend who recently had top surgery so he can lend you one of his binders."

"Okay, sweet," Beca says. Perhaps this is all a bit more complicated than she had originally thought.

"And you'll have to make your voice sound deeper," Stacie instructs. "You sound like a girl."

It's a fact, not an insult, but Beca frowns. "Okay." She coughs and deepens her voice. "Okay."

"But without sounding like the Terminator."

Beca rolls her eyes. "I'll work on it."

"Now come with me," Stacie says, walking past Beca towards the door and motioning for her to follow.

"Where are we going?" Beca has to walk more quickly than she usually does to keep up with Stacie's long legs.

"Dude 101," Stacie says, by way of explanation. "We're going to practice walking like a guy."

Beca scrunches up her face. "What does that even mean?"

"Look at that guy," Stacie says, subtly gesturing to a guy in baggy jeans who looks like he's in his twenties. He does walk with a certain side-to-side swagger, striding purposefully—unlike Beca's even and quick just-trying-to-stay-out-of-the-way gait. "Walk behind him like he's walking."

"What? No," Beca refuses. "That's weird."

"You'll just look like you're walking down the street," Stacie says, giving her a gentle shove. "Do you want my help or not?"

Beca sighs and darts around the pedestrians to get closer to the man. She feels absolutely ridiculous and awkward, and she's pretty sure she's blushing. She follows him to the end of the block when he stops to wait for the cross light.

When Beca jogs back over to Stacie, she's laughing. "What?"

"You looked kind of stupid," Stacie tells her, fighting a smile.  
"Wow, thanks. You're super helpful," Beca grouses, crossing her arms.

"You need to loosen up, Bec," Stacie says. "Stop thinking so much about it." She points to another person. "Now go follow that guy. Remember: Pretend you have a penis."

Beca gives her a strange look. "Ew," she says, but complies, trying not to focus less on the feeling of each step and more on just feeling the rhythm.

"Better," Stacie praises when she returns. "You didn't look as much like a spastic penguin."

"Why did I ask for your help again?" Beca says. "You've insulted me, like, four times. You at least owe me ice cream."

Stacie rolls her eyes. "Okay, after we go shopping."

"Shopping?" Beca groans.

"Uh, yeah," Stacie says, her voice dripping with _duh_. "You'll need something to wear. You'd be swimming in Jesse's clothes."

Beca sighs. "Ugh, fine. But _definitely_ ice cream afterwards."

Stacie winks at her. "You got it, babe."

Beca just shakes her head. This is a whole lot more work than she had thought.

* * *

When Beca steps out of Stacie's car decked out in her disguise and Barden uniform—stiff khakis, a button-down, a forest-green blazer, and an ugly striped tie—she's suddenly overwhelmed. Can she do this? Is this a mistake? What if she can't convince anyone? Then what'll happen?

"Wassup," some guy says to her as he walks past, and it sends Beca diving back into the car.  
"He definitely knew," she panic-whispers. "This was stupid. I can't do this, I can't—"

"Beca, shut up," Stacie hisses. "You can do this. You're gonna be fine. I did not spend all of this time and effort for you to bail now!"

"Oh, my bad," Beca says sarcastically. "I forgot it was your ass on the line here for a minute."  
"Get out of the car, Beca," Stacie commands, shoving at her shoulder.

Taking a breath, Beca steps back out.

"Now," Stacie says, moving around the car to stand in front of her, "let me hear the voice."

"Hey," Beca says, trying to focus on making her voice deep enough to sound masculine but not so deep as to sound face. "I'm Jesse. What's up?"

"Okay, good," Stacie says. "Now show me the walk."

Beca takes several steps away from Stacie and then walks back; she's been practicing and it feels a lot more natural now (although it's still weird).

"Great." Stacie claps her hands together. "Now let me see you spit."

"Ew. Dude, no," Beca says. She's always hated it when guys did this; she's not going to turn herself into a hypocrite—not even for this.

"You're right." Stacie wrinkles her nose. She wraps her arms around Beca in a quick hug. "Be a good boy," she says with a wink and a slap on Beca's ass.

Beca shoots her a look but shoulders her bag, takes a deep breath, and enters the foray.

The first issue is that Beca doesn't actually know where she's going. She weaves in between and around the throngs of students, trying to both look where she's going and stay out of everyone's way. It's no easy feat, especially when she quickly finds herself swept up in a marching band. Once she escapes, she flattens herself against the side of the nearest building to take a few deep breaths. When she feels calm again, she looks at the name on the building in the hope of finding her bearings.

 _Baker Hall_ is spelled out in block lettering mounted on the bricks. Her dorm! Beca heaves a sigh of relief—maybe this is a sign that this isn't a massive mistake.

 _Or maybe it is_ , Beca thinks as she takes in the scene she finds inside of the dorm: boys everywhere in various states of dress (and undress), throwing things back and forth, yelling and whooping and laughing. It's very overwhelming, and Beca feels very much like she's in over her head.

"I can do this," she whispers to herself, trying to make her body as small as possible so she can slip through the chaos. "234… 234… 234…" she mutters over and over as she scans the numbers on the doors. "Aha!"

Beca wrenches open the door and shuts it quickly, taking a few seconds just to close her eyes and calm her racing heart before she has to deal with her roommate.

Her _shirtless_ , roommate, apparently. And his two friends. _Great_.

"Um, hey," Beca says hesitantly to the blank stares she's met with. "I'm Jesse."

One of the guys—a tall, muscular blond with perfectly sculpted abs—gives her a nod. "I'm Luke," he says, a British accent coloring his words. "These are Donald and Unicycle; they live next door."

Beca gives them a little wave before she remembers that that's probably something Stacie would tell her not to do. "'Sup?" she says instead.

One of the guys—Beca isn't sure which one is Donald and which one is Unicycle—gives her a strange look. "Are you even old enough to go here?"

Beca resists the urge to stomp her foot. She's not _that_ small. "I, uh… I skipped a grade," she lies. The guys seem to accept this.

Beca dumps her bags onto the empty bed. She glances around the room; the walls on Luke's half of the room are already decorated with posters of rock musicians and pop and rap stars. "You guys into music?" she asks, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah," Luke says. "We're all in the Treblemakers."

 _YES!_ Beca shouts internally, but she schools her features into an impassive look. "Oh, cool. I'm planning on auditioning."

Luke gives her a long look. "You sing?"

"Yeah," Beca says, mildly offended. What is _that_ supposed to mean? "Bro," she adds, for good measure. She crosses one leg over the other and her arms over her chest, aiming for a nonchalant pose, but she loses her balance and knocks her bag to the ground. Out spills her toiletries: her deodorant, her shampoo, and her razor.

"Why do you have a women's razor?" Luke asks suspiciously. He almost looks mildly disgusted.

"Um…" Beca wracks her brain for an excuse. _Why_ didn't she buy a men's razor? "This one has the, uh, moisture bars in it so you don't need shaving cream," she explains, trying to sound confident. "It works a lot better." She holds it up, and Luke takes a step back like it's infected. "Have you never tried it?"

Luke shakes his head. "Doesn't it make you smell all girly and shit?"

Beca just shrugs. "It's better than getting all cut up."

There's a beat of silence before Luke and his friends burst out laughing. "You're weird, man," Donald (Unicycle?) says.

Beca turns away and picks up her bag. She hasn't even been here two hours and she's already screwing this up.

* * *

The Treblemakers' coach is scary as fuck.

Beca wasn't nervous about the audition; she's confident in her music abilities. She's led the Bellas to victory countless times. She's got this.

But she wasn't prepared for this.

"Alright, boys," the coach shouts, slowly pacing up and down the stage in Barden's auditorium. "I'm Pieter, coach of the Treblemakers, Barden's top a cappella group." His tall stature combined with his strong German accent and no-nonsense tone of voice makes Beca uneasy. "Let's start the new season like we finished the last, shall we? Strong," he bellows, "sharp. Precise."

Beca shrinks back in her seat. She's officially nervous.

"Alright, everybody up," Pieter calls, clapping his hands together. "Let's get started."

Back at East High, Bellas' auditions consisted of just singing a song.

Barden is very, very different.

Not only does Beca have to sing every possible part of a song, she has to harmonize in a group. She's used to being the lead, the solo star, and she's rusty.

And then there's the cardio.

Beca understands the necessity of the cardio; the Bellas did a bit of cardio at every practice. But this? This is excessive.

She doesn't think she's ever run so much in her life—around the track, up and down the bleachers, around the field. A set is only, what? Two and a half minutes? _An hour of running is cruel and unnecessary!_ Beca wants to scream, but she keeps her mouth shut and trudges along behind the group. She hates that everyone seems to be better at this than she is; she's used to being the leader, not the straggler.

And Pieter screaming and blowing his whistle at them every five seconds? Not helpful.

Beca is absolutely sure that she has died and gone to Hell by the time Pieter blows his whistle for a final time.

"Good work today," he says. "I saw a lot of… how do you say? Hardened work." He looks down at his clipboard. "Now, I've divided you into two teams, team A and team B. Now, don't feel disappointed if you're on team B. You're an important part of this team; you'll practice with us and travel to competitions. You just won't be competing."

Beca holds her chin up confidently.

Pieter starts reading off a list of names. After he reads about five of them, Beca is fairly certain that she's made the A team. "Applebaum… and Mitchell." The word sinks in Beca's stomach like stone. "B team."

Beca looks down at her feet, debating whether she should call Stacie and blow off the whole plan. If she's can't compete against the Footnotes, what's the point?

But her disappointment is nothing compared to the panic she feels when Pieter says, "Alright, boys, hit the showers."

Beca freezes as everyone else moves around her to head back inside.

"Problem?" Pieter asks, a brow raised.

"Um, nope," Beca says, following the group. Her mind races as she tries to figure out a way out of this.

The locker room smells like sweat and old socks. Guys mill about in towels, and the humidity of the running showers immediately makes Beca's forehead break out in perspiration. _Maybe I can just hide in a bathroom stall until everyone leaves_ , she thinks.

"Mitchell!"

Beca jumps at the sound of Pieter calling her name. "Y-yes?"

"No shower for you," Pieter tells her, grabbing her arm and tugging her toward the door. "Dr. Tobias wants to see you." And, yeah, Beca is sure she's been caught.

Beca walks down the hallways of the building with heavy footsteps, feeling like she's walking to her own execution. Is she going to get in trouble? Is she going to get arrested?

The office is empty when Beca pushes open the door on which a plaque inscribed "Headmaster" is mounted. She sits down, her hands nervously fidgeting in her lap.

Suddenly, the door opens. "Mr. Mitchell!"

Beca whips her head around to see a bad man with a brown beard in the doorway. He doesn't _seem_ angry, and he did just call her "mister." Maybe this is about something else?

"Um, hello," Beca says. Her scalp is itchy from sweating underneath the wig all morning, but she resists the urge to scratch it.

"I am Dr. David Tobias," he says with a bow. "Headmaster."

"It's nice to meet you," Beca says cautiously. "Am I in trouble, or…?"

"Oh, no!" Dr. Tobias says, moving around his desk. "I just wanted to say welcome."

"Oh," Beca says, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Thank y—"

"Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome," Dr. Tobias sings, looking Beca dead in the eyes as he does so. "Welcome to Barden! Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome!" Beca smiles uncomfortably, unsure of what to do in this situation. "I just wanted to have you in to say _wel_ come."

"Yeah, uh, I got that," Beca mutters. "Thanks." Dr. Tobias launches into some spiel about Barden's honor code, and Beca tunes him out. She looks at the various little figurines littering his desk. On one corner sits a rather large ceramic goose; there's a line running around its middle, indicating that it opens. Curious, Beca reaches out to touch it.

"DO NOT DO NOT," Dr. Tobias bellows, and Beca recoils, shocked. "That was rude. You do not come into a gentleman's office and touch his goose."

"Sorry," Beca says, confused and a bit scared.

"So how are you liking campus?" Dr. Tobias asks, as if the last ten seconds hadn't happened.

It takes Beca a moment to get out an answer. "Beautiful."

"You know, Jesse, I was a transfer student once myself," Dr. Tobias says conspiratorially, like he's sharing some big secret, "many, many years go."

"Cool," Beca says. This is officially the strangest conversation she's ever had.

"So I like to keep a close eye on the transfer students." Dr. Tobias grins. "Like an unofficial father of sorts."

"Ew," Beca says under her breath, quietly enough that Dr. Tobias doesn't hear.

"So if you see me _popping_ "—he accentuates his words with something akin to jazz hands—"up anywhere, don't be surprised."

"I'll look forward to it," Beca says dryly.

"Great." Dr. Tobias smiles at her and leans over the desk to shake her hand. "Now get outta here."

 _Gladly_ , Beca thinks. She's in such a haste to exit the office that she collides with another body in the hall. Books and papers fly around them as they fall to the floor.

"Shit, sorry!" Beca apologizes as she starts picking up the other person's things.

"It's okay," the person says, and Beca looks up to see a girl with red, wavy hair and the bluest eyes she's ever seen.

"Totally my fault," Beca says. After a short moment she realizes she's just staring, so she hands the books in her arms back to the girl. "My bad."

"It's really no problem," the girl laughs. "Thanks for helping me pick these up."

"Of course," Beca says. "What am I gonna do, just walk away?"

The girl shrugs one shoulder, standing up. "Some guys here would do that."

 _Some guys..? Oh! Right_. "Well, you're welcome." The girl just smiles, and after a few seconds Beca coughs awkwardly, gesturing behind her. "I should get back to doing… you know. Guy stuff." She kicks herself as soon as the words leave her mouth.

"Okay," the girl says amusedly.

"Uh, bye." Beca turns and walks away; she doesn't know where she's going, but she needs to put some space between herself and the girl before she makes an even bigger fool out of herself.

* * *

The food at Barden isn't great, but at least it's always served with a smile.

Why does the headmaster work in the cafeteria anyway?

Beca gives Dr. Tobias a smile that probably looks more like a grimace when he hands her her sandwich with a, "Have a _great_ apple and sandwich!"

The cafeteria is full of students clumped around the tables; Beca scans the crowd for Luke, and spots him at a table with Donald and Unicycle.

"Hey, guys," she says, sitting down. She pretends she doesn't notice the eye roll from Donald and the soft groan from Unicycle. "Mind if I join you?" Luke gives her a half-shrug, and Beca unwraps her sandwich. "So…" she says, trying to stimulate conversation. She doesn't have to be best friends with these guys, but she's not going to spend two weeks being completely ignored. Plus, it'll be nice for Jesse to have some friends once he actually gets here. "The sectional against East High should be interesting."

Luke looks at her. "Why would it be interesting?"

"My sister goes there, and she dated that idiot Tom Jones for awhile," Beca says, trying to keep the bitter edge out of her voice. She's still hurt by the way Tom had treated her. "Total dick."

Donald and Unicycle burst out laughing. "Oh, him." Luke snorts. "I made him cry once."

Beca's eyes widen. "That was you?" She remembers Tom storming off to the bathrooms after a loss to the Trebles; if she's remembering correctly, it was because Luke called him a "loser." She rolls her eyes at the memory.

"Yep," Luke says, stuffing a few chips in his mouth.

"Is your sister hot?" Donald asks—Beca has finally learned which is which.

"Um," Beca says, "I guess?" Donald nods thoughtfully. Beca's about to say more when suddenly Unicycle coughs and hisses, " _Incoming._ Chloe, twelve o'clock."

Beca follows the boys' gaze to see the girl from earlier—Chloe—and another girl walk up to the food line. She tries to remember what Stacie has said about talking like a guy. "Check out the butt on that redhead, amirite?" she says.

Luke glares at her. "Don't talk about her that way."

Beca raises her eyebrows. "Is that your girlfriend?"

"He wishes," Unicycle says with a laugh.

"Shut up," Luke says irritably.

Beca steals another glance at Chloe over her shoulder. Coincidentally, Chloe turns around at that exact moment and catches Beca's eye. Beca quickly turns away.

Somebody passes by Beca's table and the boys stop talking. Looking up, Beca sees a slightly chubby guy with brown hair and neatly pressed khakis.

"I hate that guy," Luke grits out as khaki guy sits down at Chloe's table.  
"Competition?" Beca teases.

"Please," Luke snaps. "It's just Bumper."

Chloe does look fairly annoyed at whatever Bumper is saying to her. She finds Beca's gaze again, and suddenly, Beca can't stand the feeling of those eyes boring into her own.

"I have to go," Beca says, standing abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. "I'll catch you dudes later."

All she gets in response is a "whatever" from Luke. Beca dumps her trash and returns her tray before hurrying out of the cafeteria.

She can't explain it, but she feels hot all over, like she's been standing under the sun too long.  
Maybe she just needs some air.

* * *

Beca hasn't showered since she got to Barden two days ago.

So when she sneaks into the bathroom at two in the morning to find it deserted, she almost whoops for joy. (But she doesn't, because she doesn't want to risk attracting any attention.)

She's about to pull off her wig when she hears footsteps entering the bathroom. Hastily, Beca tries to fix her wig back atop her head.

Bumper looks surprised when he sees someone else is in the bathroom, but he shakes the look off of his face. "Bumper Allen, dorm director," he introduces himself, and Beca prays that her wig isn't askew. "Shower shoes must be worn at all times in the bathroom," Bumper scolds. "Did you not read your new student pamphlet? It is expressly stated in there."

Beca rolls her eyes. "Okay, sorry." She hears the door to the bathroom open again and Luke appears around the corner. "What's up?" Beca asks, nodding to him.

"Hey," Luke says, looking mildly amused instead of mildly annoyed. Beca considers this an improvement. He snaps the towel slung over his shoulder at the back of Bumper's head, causing Bumper to let out a rather inhuman squeal.

"Hey!" Bumper snaps. "I could report you for that."

"Yeah, Allen? Try me."

Beca uses the distraction as an opportunity to sneak out of the bathroom.

She'll have to try again tomorrow.

* * *

Beca is jolted awake by several pairs of hands lifting her out of her bed.

At first she thinks it's some weird dream, but as she's ushered into the locker room with a bunch of other boys on the Trebles' B team, she quickly realizes she's about to get hazed.

Something damp and sticky—oatmeal, maybe—is flung on her as boys in masks hoot and shout; one (whom Beca thinks may be Donald) keeps yelling, "WELCOME TO HELLLL!" over and over again.

And okay, it's rude and probably against ten different Barden rules, but Beca can deal with it. But then another boy bellows, "Remove your clothes!" and Beca knows she has to get out of there.

She darts underneath and around the boys, desperately looking for a way out.

And then she spots the fire alarm.

Normally Beca wouldn't ever fuck around with a fire alarm; she's not _that_ big of a dick. But this is going downhill _fast_ , and whoever organized this exercise in irresponsibility blocked the door—which is a fire hazard. Beca has to appreciate the irony as she yanks the handle.

* * *

"I'm out," Beca hisses into the phone the second Stacie picks up.

"What?"

"I'm done. I quit." Beca walks around to the side of the building that houses some of the classrooms and sits against the wall. "I can't do this."

"What?" Stacie repeats. "Why?"

"Everyone thinks I'm some weird idiot," Beca hisses into the phone. "I'm not even gonna be able to compete at the sectional against East High, and I _reek._ Seriously, Stace, I haven't been able to shower all week."

"Ew," Stacie says.

"Can you come pick me up?" Beca doesn't even care that she's whining. She's tired and she misses being able to shower.

"Look, Bec, I don't know about the whole a cappella thing," Stacie says, and Beca frowns in annoyance when Stacie pops her gum, "but I can totally help you with the social stuff."

"Really? How?" Beca asks skeptically.

"I have an idea," Stacie says. "We're going to show everyone what a man you really are."

"What does that even mean?"

"We get a bunch of my friends to fawn over you in a public space and all of the Barden boys will want to know your secret," Stacie tells her breezily. "Even if you do look like you're twelve."

Beca huffs out a breath. "Why must you constantly insult me?"

"It's fun." There's some muffled voices on Stacie's end. "Listen, Bec, I gotta go. I'll call you later with the deets, okay?"

"Alright," Beca agrees, but Stacie's already hung up.

Beca stares at her phone for a long moment.

She supposes things can't get worse.

* * *

Beca feels kind of ridiculous.

She feels kind of ridiculous, but Stacie insists that this is going to work. And Beca?

She doesn't really have anything to lose.

Beca walks into the pizza joint down the street from Barden, trying to put an extra swagger into her step. She sees Luke, Donald and Unicycle sitting in a booth. Beca can tell the exact moment that they spot her, because they immediately spread out their limbs, leaving no space for Beca should she want to sit with them.

She doesn't, though—she's here on a mission.

Stacie gives Beca a discreet thumbs-up when Beca glances over to her. She's seated at a table in the far corner of the pizza shop, wearing sunglasses despite being indoors. _Real inconspicuous, Stace,_ Beca thinks.

"Hey, bros," Beca says nonchalantly as she comes to a stop beside Luke's table. They all give her a noncommittal, "Sup," none of them quite meeting her eyes.

 _Well, fine, then_ , Beca thinks as she sees a girl sauntering towards her in high heels and minimal clothing.

"Hi, Jesse," she purrs, wrapping Beca into a hug.

"Hey, Jessica," Beca says, moving one hand down to briefly brush over Jessica's ass. She feels like… well, like a dude, but it's just for show.

She'll apologize to Jessica later.

"It's been awhile," Jessica says when she pulls back, her arms still loosely wrapped around Beca's neck. "You haven't returned my calls."

"Oh, well, you know…" Beca says, shrugging. "New school. I've been busy."

Jessica pouts her lower lip. "I've missed you," she breathes into Beca's ear, "especially at night."

Beca has her back turned to Luke and his friends, but she thinks she hears a gasp. It makes her smirk smugly. "Yeah, well."

Jessica hugs her again. "It was really great to see you, Jesse," she says with a wink. "Cal me anytime."

Beca pointedly stares at Jessica's ass as she walks away. She sneaks a look over her shoulder at the boys, who look dumbfounded. "Women, amirite?"

"Uh, yeah," Luke says. His smile looks forced.

"Jesse?"

Beca turns around to see a girl in a floral-print sundress striding towards her. "Is that you?"

"Oh, hey, Ashley. What's happening?"

Ashley drapes her arms over Beca's shoulders, and for a second Beca thinks she's about to kiss her—but she doesn't. "Our school lost its top gun, Jesse Mitchell," she almost whines.

"Well, a time comes for a man to move on," Beca tells her as Ashley leans into her side.

"I know," Ashley says sadly. "In the end I just wasn't woman enough for you." Beca can see Stacie mouthing the words along with Ashley, and Beca rolls her eyes. "And that's something I'll always have to live with."

"Love hurts," Beca says apathetically.

Ashley grabs Beca roughly by the sides and pushes her against the side of a booth. "I won't forget you, Jesse," she says, her eyes wide and filled with pain. _Damn, this girl can act._ "Ever." She turns and hurries away, and Beca thinks there might actually be tears on her cheeks.

"Women," Beca says to the boys when she notices them all staring at her. They look absolutely dumbfounded.

 _My work here is done_ , Beca thinks to herself, starting to walk towards the door.

And then she hears a voice.

"I'm looking for my boyfriend, Jesse Mitchell. Have you seen him?"

Aubrey.

 _Shit._

Beca starts to panic, and Stacie walks past, discreetly muttering, "Don't let her get too close. She'll recognize you."

"Jesse?"

"Uh…" Beca grabs a couple pitchers of soda and holds them in front of her face. "Stay away from me, Aubrey!" she calls.

Of course Aubrey just storms after her. "Jesse, what?"

"Don't come near me!" Beca shouts, turning away and putting the pitchers down on a table. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Jesse, what are you talking about?" Aubrey nearly bowls over a guy with a pizza balanced on a tray in his hand. "Come here."

"It's over," Beca says, ducking behind the bar. "You're hot, Aubrey, but you don't have anything else to offer." Jesse is going to _kill_ her for this, but Beca thinks it's long overdue.

"Jesse, get _over_ here!" Aubrey commands.

"Give it up, Aubrey!" Beca yells. Maybe if she makes a scene Aubrey will get embarrassed and back down. "We're over! The fabulousness of your ass does not outweigh the horrendousness of your personality."

It works. Aubrey lets out a frustrated noise, hands clenching into fists before she turns and stomps out of the pizza place.

The only issue is that now everyone is staring at _Beca_ , and she looks around self-consciously. She's never liked being the center of attention—not outside of performances, that is.

So when Luke calls, "Hey, Jesse, come on and sit down with us," Beca is grateful.

Donald, Unicycle, and Luke are looking at her with expressions of both confusion and awe. "Dude, you are officially my idol now."

Beca grins sheepishly. She glances over at Stacie, who looks satisfied with herself. She gives Beca a wave before she disappears out the door.

 _My work here is done_ , Beca can hear Stacie say in her head.

* * *

The change is almost instantaneous.

Word of Beca's— _Jesse's_ —female exploits makes it around campus, and, suddenly, everyone looks at Beca like she's _the man_.

Honestly, she kind of feels like the man.

Guys clap her on the back and slap her high fives as she passes, and girls give her lingering glances and coy smiles.

It's very, very weird, but it's a good feeling.

Even if it's all based on a lie.

Luke actually talks to her now, and Donald even pulled her aside to ask for advice.

"How long did you date that girl for, anyway?" Luke asks her as they wait for their chemistry class to start.

"Too long," Beca says with an eye roll.

"Why did you stay with her?" Unicycle chimes in, frowning.

Beca holds her hands in front of her chest. "Boobs," she says, smirking. "I'm a boob man." And _okay_ , she might dislike Aubrey with every fiber of her being, but she's not _blind_.

Maybe she's starting to get the hang of this _thinking like a guy_ thing.

"Oh, my God," Luke suddenly whispers, shrinking down in his seat. "She's in this class."

Beca turns around to see Chloe enter the room. Her stomach flips uncomfortably, her heart fluttering a bit. She ignores it. "Dude, calm down," she says, her voice coming out rough. She clears her throat.

"I am calm," Luke snaps, and Donald and Unicycle burst out laughing.

"Good morning, class." Beca looks up to see the teacher standing at the front of the room holding a small shoebox full of scraps of paper. "First things first—let's pick lab partners."

Luke reaches in and pulls out a piece of paper. "Lilly Okanakamura," he reads, then drops his head into his hands. "Shit."

"Be nice," Beca hisses.

"Yeah," Donald says, punching Luke on the arm. "Be nice, dude."

Beca selects her own slip and looks down at the name. "Chloe Beale." Her stomach drops again, but she still gives a smile and a little wave to Chloe, who seems to have been watching her pick a partner. Chloe grins and nods back, and Beca can't help but notice how the green of her blazer complements her hair. On anyone else, it would probably clash, but—wait, why is Beca even thinking about this?

"You know her?" Luke's voice snaps Beca back to reality. His tone is accusing.

"I talked to her, like, once for ten seconds," Beca says.

"But she gave you _the nod_ ," Luke says, his voice low. He tries to grab the piece of paper out of Beca's hand. "Switch with me."

"No," Beca says, pulling her arm back. "I can't; I already said her name out loud." Plus, Lilly kind of scares her, and she doesn't want to be paired with the girl for activities involving open flames. Beca grabs her things and relocates herself to the seat across the lab table from Chloe.

"Hello again," Chloe says as Beca hops onto the lab stool.

"Hi," Beca greets. "We haven't officially met. I'm Jesse." She's not going to tell Chloe that she already knows her name and may or may not have stalked her Facebook page.

"Chloe," Chloe says, shaking Beca's hand. "It's nice to meet you." She smiles, and Beca's eyes flick down to her lips.

"I gotta tell you something," Beca says quietly, leaning across the lab table. "I'm always kind of paranoid that I'm going to burn myself on the Bunsen burner," she says. What she leaves out is that it's because of an experiment gone very, very wrong her freshman year of high school. "So you might have to deal with touching the hot stuff."

Chloe looks at her for a moment. "You know, most guys wouldn't ever admit that."

 _Fuck_. Beca realizes her mistake, and she's about to play it off as a joke when Chloe covers Beca's hand with her own.

"Don't worry," Chloe says gently, the heat of her hand burning Beca's skin. "I think it's refreshing."

"Oh." _Bullet dodged_ , Beca thinks.

All of a sudden, a hand comes out of nowhere and snatches one of Beca's papers off of the table.

"No papers near the Bunsen burner," Bumper says, loud and obnoxious.

"Yeah, okay," Chloe says, grabbing the paper back.

Beca realizes that the page has fallen out of her—well, Jesse's—binder; she hadn't bothered to clean the thing out since she didn't want to throw away anything that would be important to Jesse.

Like that sheet of paper, which has lyrics from one of the infinite numbers of in-progress songs Jesse writes.

Beca tries to take it out of Chloe's hand, but she holds it out of Beca's reach, smirking playfully. "What's this?"

"Nothing," Beca says, and then thinks better of it. It's clearly not _nothing_ if she's trying to get it back. "Just, uh, lyrics. To one of my songs."

" _I've been waiting for you…_ " Chloe reads, then trails off.

Beca watches nervously with baited breath as Chloe's face softens as she reads. Beca's not even sure why she feels so nervous when she didn't even write the lyrics; why is she suddenly so desperate for Chloe's approval?

"These are really good, Jesse," Chloe says when she looks up. "Beautiful."

Beca blushes, then immediately feels stupid. It's technically not her compliment to take. "Thanks."

"I write songs, too, Chloe," Bumper cuts in.

"Yeah, that's nice," Chloe says absently. She's still _looking_ at Beca like she's seeing a Van Gogh painting for the first time—studying her intently before smiling softly.

It makes Beca squirm uncomfortably.

It's going to be a long class period.

* * *

Luke yanks Beca backwards by the collar of her blazer as soon as she exits the classroom.

"What the fuck, dude?" Beca cries sharply, momentarily forgetting to deepen her voice. "I mean, uh, what the f—"

"Did you say anything about me?" Luke asks, dragging Beca over to a couple of chairs in an alcove.

"To whom?" Beca asks, confused.

"Chloe," Luke clarifies through gritted teeth.

"What? No," Beca says. "Why would I?"

"You—" Luke groans frustratedly, rubbing his hands down his face. "This is _perfect_ , man. You get to spend an hour every other day with her. You can convince her to go out with me."

Beca raises an eyebrow. "She's had that option for, like, three years, man."

Luke glares at her for a moment. "Listen, if you can get her to go out with me, I'll work with you on your singing." Beca's eyes widen. She's listening. "I'll make you good enough to make A team."

"Really? By the sectional against East High?" Beca asks, all thoughts of Chloe (and her eyes, and her face, and her hair) out of her mind.

"Absolutely."

"Deal," Beca says quickly, before Luke can change his mind.

Luke breaks into a grin wider than Beca's seen on him. "You're the man." He holds his fist up for a bump. Beca gladly pounds it with her own.

"Yeah I am."

* * *

This is brutal.

Beca is good at a cappella—she's _won_ competitions. Many times. This is what she _does_.

But, apparently, that's not good enough for Barden.

Luke drills her every morning before classes—scales, harmonizing exercises, choreography.

And cardio.

It _sucks_ , but Beca can feel herself building stamina. She finds herself making it through practices without wanting to die quite as much as she did before, and matching pitch has become second nature.

She thinks Pieter has noticed—at least, he's yelling at her less.

So she really needs to uphold her end of the bargain.

"So… Have you ever thought about going out with Luke?"

 _Real smooth, Beca._

"Uh, no," Chloe says, not even looking up from her notebook.

"Oh, come on," Beca says, poking Chloe in the arm with the eraser end of her pencil.

"Nope," Chloe says firmly.

"Why not?" Beca glances over at Luke, who is completely ignoring Lilly and instead staring and Beca and Chloe.

"He's got about as much depth as a kiddie swimming pool," Chloe says flatly. Beca hopes Luke didn't overhear that. When she seems the expression on Beca's face, Chloe laughs. "I mean, yeah, he's good-looking. But he's just… not the guy for me." She has a wistful expression on her face.

"I think there's more to him than you think there is," Beca says. It's somewhat true: While a walnut would probably outscore him on the SATs, Luke is still a nice guy. He's definitely not as much of a pig as _Tom_ and his friends are.

"So you're telling me," Chloe says, "that he's not just another jock that wants to hook up with me so he can tell all of his friends but is—"

"Too insecure to treat you as an equal?" Beca finishes bitterly. Then she kicks herself. _This isn't about you_.

"Yeah, exactly," Chloe says, surprised. She studies Beca for a moment, like she's searching for something. "You know, I think you're the first guy at this school who hasn't tried something with me."

"Oh, uh," Beca says, trying to figure out how to get the conversation topic back on Luke, "you're not my type."

Chloe bristles visibly, like she's offended. "Why not?" Her voice sounds so guarded; it sends up red flags in Beca's mind, but she forces herself to ignore them.

She'll analyze later why the look in Chloe's eyes makes Beca uneasy, makes her want to hold Chloe in her arms and assure her that she's beautiful. To tell her that she deserves somebody special—more special, probably, than Luke.

But that's not the deal.

"I, um…" Beca hedges. "I just don't, uh, think of you in… that way. We're friends, you know?" She forces a smile.

"Yeah," Chloe says quietly, looking down at her hands for a moment. When she looks back up, she's schooled her features into impassivity. "You know, maybe I will give Luke a chance."

It's exactly what Beca wants to hear, but for some reason it makes her almost feel sick.

"Great," she says anyway, because she's here for a cappella.

Not for Chloe.

Or, at least, that's what she keeps reminding herself.

* * *

Beca's cell phone rings as she's walking back from class towards her dorm. _Jesse_ blinks up at her on the caller ID.

"Hey," Beca answers. She hasn't spoken to her brother since she stole his identity.

"Hey, Bec," Jesse says. There's a lot of background noise on his end, like he's in a crowded space.

"How're you? How's London?" Beca asks, sitting down on a nearby bench.

"Great," Jesse tells her. "The band's doing really well. Listen, did you get the school thing taken care of?"

Beca rolls her eyes. Of course Jesse couldn't have called just to say hi. "Yeah, no worries. It's all straightened out."

"Nice! Thank you so much," Jesse says.

"No problem. So, uh," Beca says, not _quite_ sure how to broach the subject, "have you heard from Aubrey?"

Jesse chuckles, and Beca lets out a breath in relief. "Yeah, I think we're done."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Beca says. She tries to keep the sarcastic edge out of her voice—she really does.

"It's fine," Jesse says dismissively. There are some rustling and muffled voices. "Listen, I have to go. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay, bye," Beca says, and then the line goes dead.

 _Great talk, Jesse_ , she thinks, then heads off to find Luke.

* * *

"Alright, motherfucker, bow down."

"Uh, what?"

Beca throws her backpack down onto her bed. "I got Chloe to agree to entertain the idea of going out with you." Well, now that she says it it doesn't sound all that great. "You're halfway there, man."

" _Nice._ " Luke immediately drops the textbook he'd been squinting at. "So should I, like, ask her out?"

"Slow down there," Beca says, holding up a hand. "You have to _speak_ to her first."

Luke makes some vague hand gesture and sighs, looking away.

Beca frowns. "Do you not… do this very often?"

"I'm not…" Luke continues to make the hand gesture, waving his hand in a circular motion as if trying to stimulate the flow of words. "I'm not good at talking to girls. I just always say the wrong thing."

"Why? Just show them your abs," Beca says.

"What?"

 _Whoops_. "Um, never mind. Okay, I'll tell you what we'll do." She stands up. "You're gonna pretend I'm a girl, and you're gonna talk to me."

"Do I have to?" Luke asks, eyeing Beca wearily.

"Yes," Beca insists. She puts her hands on her hips and cocks one out. "I'm Beca," she says in her regular voice, albeit a bit higher. "Nice to meet you, Luke."

Luke looks thoroughly freaked out. "That was creepy. You _really_ just sounded like a girl."

"I used to imitate my sister all the time," Beca says. (The only untruth in that is that Jesse _still_ does it.) "Come on. Ask me questions."

Luke stands reluctantly. "Questions about what?"

Beca shrugs. "Anything. Ask me about…" She thinks for a moment. "Cats."

"Cats?" Beca nods. "Do you like… cats?"

"Oh, yes, I do," Beca says in a falsetto voice, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. She bites back a laugh at the way Luke's eyes widen. "I like fat cats."

"I like fat cats, too?" Luke says, inflection rising at the end of his sentence so it sounds like a question. It's far from _good_ , but at least Luke is trying.

"See? You can do it," Beca says encouragingly, although internally, she's rolling her eyes. Luke needs to get his shit together, in her honest opinion.

They're cut off by the sound of Beca's—Jesse's—beeping, signaling a text.

 **Mom:** _Reminder about the carnival tomorrow. You and your sister promised to be there._

"Ah, fuck," Beca mutters to herself. She'd completely forgotten.

"Wait, your mom's in Junior League?" Luke asks, reading over Beca's shoulder. Which— _rude_.

"Yeah," Beca says, tossing the phone back onto her bed. "How'd you know?"

"So is mine," Luke says.

"Ugh, I don't need this right now," Beca groans. She's got enough on her plate with a cappella and playing matchmaker.

"It won't be that bad," Luke assuages. "Chloe's gonna be there. It's a perfect opportunity for me to lay some ground work." He punches Beca in the shoulder—not as lightly as he might have thought, because _ow_ —before heading back over to his desk.

"Chloe's gonna be there," Beca repeats. "And you. And my sister. And Aubrey. And my mom…" She trails off. "Great."

 _Shit_.

* * *

The annual Junior League carnival is stupid.

Beca thinks this for two reasons: One, she thinks Junior League is stupid. And two, she very strongly dislikes carnivals—screaming children, the stench of burnt fried dough, the rides that probably haven't been disinfected since their purchase.

So the only reason she's here, backpack holding the dress that her mother practically had to sedate her in order to try on and a pair of sandals slung over her back, is because her mother is forcing her to participate.

She walks across the grass toward the frenzied fairgrounds with Luke, Donald, and Unicycle. "I don't want to be here," Beca grumbles, _just_ in case she hasn't made herself clear.

"Hey!" she hears, and looks up to see Chloe striding towards them. "I'm gonna be in the kissing booth," she says, walking sideways as she speaks to Beca. "Come and see me."

Beca's stomach drops at the purr in Chloe's words, and all she can do is nod. She considers, just for a moment, taking Chloe up on her offer, but she pushes the thought out of her mind. She's not the most well-versed on bro code, but she's pretty sure that would be breaking it.

She turns to say something to Luke, but he's already walking away. "Hey, where are you going?" Beca calls.

"Where do you think I'm going?" Luke gestures in the direction in which Chloe disappeared.

Great.

Beca's about to say something else—or maybe chase after him—when she spots Aubrey stalking across the grass. "Fuck," she mutters, turning around.

"What's wrong?" Unicycle asks.

"Nothing," Beca says, sneaking a glance over her shoulder. "Just my psycho ex. I'm think I'm gonna lay low for a bit; I don't want to deal with her."

"Alright," Unicycle says, and Donald shrugs.

It's half a lie—not the part about wanting to avoid Aubrey (for obvious reasons), but Beca needs to make an appearance as herself so her mom doesn't complain about it for the rest of her life.

She slips into a Porta Potty—holding her breath the entire time, because it _reeks_ in there—and quickly changes into the dress, stuffing her wig, jeans, and t-shirt into the backpack.

A couple of people give her confused looks when she exits, but Beca just dashes across the fairground to find her mother where she's selling cupcakes under a tent.

"Oh, you look like such a _lady_ ," her mother coos when she sees Beca. "It's a miracle!"

Beca rolls her eyes. "Hi, Mom."

"Is Aubrey getting you all excited about being a debutante?" her mom asks, touching Beca's face and hair, like she can't believe she's really her daughter.

"Super excited," Beca drawls, squirming away from her hand. "I'm just gonna go—"

"Oh, no," her mother cuts her off, yanking Beca back. "You have the next shift at the kissing booth, and your brother is late for the cotton candy cart."

The kissing booth.

Shit.

"Um, I'll go find him," Beca says, and takes off back across the grass.

It's difficult to move quickly in the dress and the stupid strappy sandals as she dodges children and parents. She nearly takes out a kid eating a slice of pizza, and when she jumps out of the way she runs straight into Luke.

Beca freezes as Luke stares at her for a second. "Wait, do I know you?" he asks, looking confused.

"Nope," Beca says, turning and walking in the opposite direction.

"Beca?"

Beca stops dead in her tracks. It sounds like—

"Beca, hey!"

Tom.

"Did you get my calls?" Tom asks, jogging over to stand in front of Beca. He's wearing a purple polo shirt with the collar popped. He looks ridiculous. "I miss you. I want to talk."

"We've _talked_ , Tom," Beca huffs. "Frankly, I'm all talked out."

"Oh, come on," Tom says, smirking in a way that infuriates Beca. "Nobody breaks up over some stupid a cappella issue. Can you just be a girl for, like, five seconds?"

Beca raises her eyebrows coolly, although inside she's screaming. "Five seconds? Okay." She holds up her hand and lifts her fingers one at a time. "It wasn't a 'stupid a cappella issue' and you're a dick," she says, wiggling her fingers. "Look at that! Five seconds is up."

And then she smacks him across the face and runs away.

It feels good—it feels _really_ good, actually, to slap his smug grin right off his face.

But Beca doesn't have time to revel in it; she has to transform herself back into Jesse.

Beca's not sure why she thought it would be a good idea to change her outfit on the spinning teacup ride; she's ready to vomit by the end of it. She rushes out of the ride, still dizzy and stumbling slightly. She's about to hurry past her mother just to let her know that "Jesse" made it, but she's intercepted by Aubrey.

"Jesse!" she calls, and Beca immediately whirls back around.

She spots Stacie standing with Jessica and Ashley. "Aubrey is behind me!" Beca hisses to Stacie as she looks around for a place to change her clothes _again_. She spots the moon bounce. _Perfect._

"Alright, I got you," Stacie assures her, and Beca climbs in, yanking off her wig and hastily pulling the dress over her head. She slips back out right before a horde of screaming children comes bouncing in.

"She gone?" Beca asks as she finishes stuffing her guy clothes into her backpack.

"Yep," Stacie confirms, patting Beca on the back. "Having fun?"

"Tons," Beca says sarcastically as she heads in the direction of the kissing booth.

She's not looking forward to this: She's incredibly against the entire concept of the kissing booth. It's unsanitary and Beca can't remember ever seeing a guy manning one.

Also, she has to watch Chloe Beale kiss like three guys before a glance at the time on her phone tells her that it's time for her to tap Chloe out.

"Hey," Beca says, gently poking Chloe in the shoulder. "I'm your relief."

Chloe pulls back from the fourteen-year-old currently assaulting her mouth. "Oh, God bless you," she says, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. Then she looks at Beca strangely. "Wait, do I know you?"

Beca forces a chuckle. "No." She moves around Chloe and takes a seat on the stool before she can ask any more questions.

Of course the next person in line is Luke.

"Dammit," he mutters, probably to himself. "This is just my luck."

Beca knows what he means—he's missed his opportunity with Chloe—but she can't help but feel a bit offended.

It must show on her face, because Luke quickly amends, "I didn't mean it like that. She's just—you're—she was—you know," he stutters, and _yeah_ , Beca can see what he meant when he said he can't talk to girls. "She's… but you are… also…"

"Um, thanks," Beca says, cutting him off.

"I guess I should kiss you now," Luke says. "I gave that girl my ticket."

Beca fights the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah, let's do this." She just wants to get this over with.

Luke sits down and awkwardly leans in, pressing his lips to Beca's—hesitantly at first, but then more firmly. It's not unpleasant, but she can't help but think how she should've kissed Chloe as Jesse when she had the chance.

Suddenly, Beca feels a hand on her shoulder.

"What the hell is this?" Tom asks. He sounds angry. "Why are you making out with my girlfriend."

Beca scoffs. They were hardly _making out_. Also, " _Ex_ -girlfriend, you mean."

"Whoa, you're Jesse's sister?" Luke asks.

Before Beca can answer, Tom shoves at Luke's shoulder. "And you're about to die." _Dramatic much,_ Beca thinks.

"What're you gonna do?" Luke chuckles, standing. "Drown me in your tears?"

"I did not cry at that game; I had something in my eye," Tom hisses through gritted teeth.

As much as Beca wants to laugh, she figures she should probably break this up before it escalates. "Guys, come on," she says, stepping between them.

"You know what? We'll settle this at sectionals," Luke says, and Beca is grateful that he's deescalating.

"Okay," Tom agrees, turning around to (presumably) walk away. Then he stops. "Or we could do it right here."

And then he punches Luke right in the face.

They fall to the ground, both trying to get a swing in which blocking the other. Kids and parents scream, trying to get out of the way.

"Guys, stop!" Beca shouts, trying to get between them but making zero progress. "Knock it off!" She even jumps onto Luke's back, but she just gets thrown back down to the ground.

It isn't until they crash into a popcorn cart that Luke and Tom seem to realize exactly where they are and what they're doing. And, by this time, Beca's mother has made her way over to the commotion.

Of course the first thing she shouts is, "Beca, stop, this is not ladylike!" As if Beca were the one in the foray. "Stop it this instant!"

Luke and Tom look up to see the crowd that has formed around them. Luke's lip is split and bleeding, and Tom has a cut on his eyebrow and popcorn lodged in his stupid popped collar.

"Both of you, out of here!" Beca's mother demands. "Now!"

"But—"

"Now!"

Reluctantly, Luke and Tom stand and stalk off, and Beca's mother rushes over. "Beca, are alright? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Beca says, adjusting her dress.

"Oh, good," Beca's mom says. "Then you can keep working the kissing booth?"

Beca groans.

She hates her life.

* * *

Luke is lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling when Beca gets back to their room, still shuddering at the memories of the God-knows-how-many guys she had to lock lips with.

"Hey, sorry," she apologizes. "Psycho ex. Had to bolt."

Luke sits up, and Beca can see that he's holding an ice pack to his mouth. "Are you okay?" Beca asks, moving over to look at him.

"Yeah, fine," Luke mumbles.

"What happened?"

"I got into it with your sister's ex," Luke admits, and Beca almost laughs. The whole situation is kind of ridiculous.

"Oh, really?" she asks, sitting down on her bed. "Why?"

"He _might_ have seen us kissing," Luke says, but rushes to add, "at the kissing booth."

Beca raises one eyebrow. "You kissed her?"

"It was for charity," Luke says defensively.

"It's fine," Beca says dismissively. It's cute how Luke thinks she—Jesse?—would be concerned. "So did you get to kiss Chloe?"

"No," Luke grumbles.

"That's too bad," Beca says. She hopes she sounds sympathetic.

She doesn't _feel_ sympathetic. She actually feels kind of… relieved. There had been no time to think about it earlier because the fight had broken out and then she'd had to kiss a bunch of prepubescent boys, but Beca realizes that she doesn't want Luke to kiss Chloe.

 _She_ wants to kiss Chloe.

Beca rolls over in her bed to face the wall, trying to force herself to think about something else. She has to stop these feelings; she's here for a cappella, and to do that, she needs Luke on her side.

Otherwise, this all would have been for nothing.

* * *

Beca feels almost guilty as she and Luke meet after classes for a quick run before some vocal exercises.

She shouldn't feel guilty—it's not like she's _done_ anything. She's still encouraging Chloe to give Luke a chance, per their deal.

Thinking about wanting to—among other things—kiss Chloe isn't a breach of contract.

It's just inconvenient.

Beca's belting out scales in the band room, accompanied by Luke on the piano, when the door bangs open. She jumps, but it's just Pieter.

"Mitchell!" he bellows, and Beca wracks her brain to try and remember if she's done something wrong. But he just hands Beca one of the Treblemakers' signature maroon velour jackets. "You're on the A team for sectionals."

"Really?" Beca says, accepting the jacket and holding it close to her chest.

"No," Pieter says sarcastically, "I was joking, you idiot."

Beca blinks as Pieter turns and walks away. That man could really use some manners. She doesn't care, though, because—"I did it!"

"Congrats, man!" Luke slaps her five, and he's giving her a genuine smile.

Beca's so distracted by the jacket in her hands that she doesn't notice Chloe walking up to them. "Hey, Luke," she says. "Jesse."

"Hi," Beca says, because Luke is just staring. To Beca's surprise Chloe seems to look right past her.

"I didn't know you played piano," Chloe says, leaning on the instrument. "Impressive." There's something almost _seductive_ about her voice and the look on her face.

"Y-yeah," Luke says, and despite her annoyance at being ignored, Beca's pleased that he at least got an entire word out.

"How long have you played?" Chloe asks, her back almost completely turned to Beca.

"Um…" Luke says, looking down at his hands for a moment, as if they'll provide the answer. "Since I was seven?"

"Wow," Chloe says. She absently twirls a piece of hair around her finger. "Maybe you could teach me sometime?"

"Sure," Luke says, moving to lean on the piano. He crashes his elbow against the keys and jumps, like he didn't realize what he was doing.

Why Chloe is suddenly interested in this bumbling idiot (sorry, Luke) is beyond Beca.

"Hey, what are you doing tonight?" Chloe asks him casually, and the words sink low and heavy in Beca's stomach.

"Nothing." Luke settles for resting his hands in his lap.

"Great," Chloe says brightly. "Then it's a date." Beca bites down on her lip and looks away. Why does this hurt so much? "Linguine's, seven o'clock?"

"Yeah."

Chloe seems oblivious to the fact that Luke's participation in this conversation has been almost entirely one-word answers. "Perfect. I'll see you then." She addresses Beca for the first time since she greeted the both of them. "Bye, Jesse." Her gaze lingers for a moment before she walks away.

"Did that really just happen?" Luke asks. "Did Chloe just ask me out?"

It almost pains Beca to answer, "Yes."

"You did it," Luke says, almost dancing on the piano bench. "You are the _man_ , man."

"Uh-huh," Beca mutters.

She feels sick.

* * *

Beca doesn't know what compels her to chase after Chloe.

"Hey, Chloe, wait up."

"Oh, hey, Jesse," Chloe says, slowing. "What's up?" There's something almost fake, almost exaggerated in her nonchalant tone.

"I want to talk to you about your date with Luke," Beca says, falling into step alongside her.

"I know," Chloe says, smiling. "I'm so glad I listened to you. He's awesome." She bats her eyelashes.

"You know," Beca says, "speaking as a third-party observer, I'm not so sure you and Luke are such a great idea."

She doesn't know why she's saying it; the words are just spilling out, and she's desperate to assuage the gnawing feeling of anxiousness that bubbles up in her whenever she thinks of Chloe and Luke together.

Chloe gives her an unreadable look. "Well, thanks for your concern. If you're so worried, maybe you should come to Linguine's tonight." It almost sounds like a challenge. "Just to keep an eye on me. We could double." She points to the first girl walking by. "I bet Lilly is available."

Lilly stops and appears beside Beca. Beca doesn't catch what she says, but when Beca asks, "I'll pick you up at 6:45?" Lilly nods.

This should be interesting.

* * *

Chloe looks very uncomfortable when Beca arrives.

She's resting her forehead on her hand, and it looks like Luke is trying to say something, but she just gives him a strange look.

But as soon as Beca says, "Hey, guys," they both jump, and Chloe slings an arm around Luke's shoulders.

"Hey, Beca," Chloe says. "Hi, Lilly."

"Mind if we join you?" Beca says, and Chloe gestures to the empty booth bench across from them.

 _Help me_ , Luke mouths to Beca when they sit down. Beca just stares back. What is she supposed to do?

"So," Chloe says, pulling her arm back and wrapping them around Luke's bicep, "I was just telling Luke how nice it is to have a real man at this school."

 _Um, rude_ , Beca thinks, even though she's hardly a "real man."

"You were?" Luke asks, confused.

"Well, I was just _about_ to," Chloe says. "Isn't it nice to have a real man, Lilly?"

"When I was a child, I ate a battery," Lilly whispers.

"What?"

"She said yes," Beca says, shifting a couple inches away.

Chloe smiles, and Beca thinks it looks rather fake. "It's so hard to find a real man."

 _What does that even mean?_ Beca wants to ask, but Chloe leans over to place a kiss on Luke's cheek, so Beca looks away.

The cheek kiss quickly morphs into nearly a full-on make-out session; Luke's hands are coming up to tangle in Chloe's hair.

A wave of jealously hits Beca so strongly that she thinks for a second that she might be sick.

 _Why_ is the feeling this way? Chloe doesn't even know her—not the _real_ Beca. Which begs the question if Beca can really know _Chloe_.

The plan was to come to Barden for two weeks, kick some a cappella ass, and go home. That was it: no complications. But then she got roped into this Chloe-and-Luke thing, and suddenly, everything feels overwhelming.

She can't take it anymore; Beca jumps up out of the booth. "This has been fun, but I have to go," she says. She's surprised she can even get the words out.

She turns and hurries out of the restaurant before the tears can fall.

* * *

Beca's not one of those listen-to-sad-music-and-cry-about-my-crush kind of girls.

But she'd much rather be doing that than be at this stupid luncheon.

That's probably pretty evident by the way she rolls in fifteen minutes late.

People are staring at her, but she doesn't particularly care.

It isn't until her teeth clamp down painfully on the bone of the chicken leg she's (apparently) been eating that she _might_ have a little pent-up aggression in her.

It could be because Chloe is seated directly in her line of vision, looking perfect (as always) in a pale blue dress, daintily sipping tea and politely laughing with some blond girl who looks like she's made of at least seventy-eight percent wax.

When Chloe gets up and heads in the direction of the bathroom, Beca's legs stand and follow her almost automatically.

She doesn't know what she's looking for as she pushes open the door and comes to stand beside Chloe at the sinks. Maybe she wants Chloe to get to know the _real_ her, even just a tiny bit. Maybe she's looking for some sort of indication of how the rest of her _date_ with Luke went. Maybe she just wants to push Chloe up against the door and kiss her.

The latter probably won't happen.

Chloe gives her a bit of a funny look and Beca realizes she's staring. "Hi," she says, forcing a smile.

"Hey," Chloe greets back. Then her brows soften into a look of realization. "Aren't you the one who saved me at the kissing booth the other day?"

Beca pretends to hesitate, like she's thinking about it. "Yeah, I was."

"Small world," Chloe says, holding out her hand. "I'm Chloe."

 _I know_. "Beca." Beca shakes Chloe's hand, hoping that she can't feel how much she's sweating.

Chloe turns back to the mirror and continues applying her lip gloss. Beca pretends to fluff her hair for a moment before she finds herself asking, "Hey, didn't you go out with that Luke guy?"

"Yeah, once," Chloe says, sounding a little confused.

"Oh." Beca tries to smile casually, tries to make her voice sound like she doesn't care. "Did you kiss him?"

Beca hates herself: That's the only explanation for why she's asking this. Something inside of her is just _desperate_ to know. It outweighs the part of her that's screaming that this is a bad idea, that she's getting too emotionally invested in this.

"No," Chloe says, shaking her head. Beca might be imagining it, but she looks almost vaguely disgusted by the idea. "Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Beca says, and she can't stop the lie that comes pouring out. "Just try to postpone it as long as possible. He has this"—she lowers her voice—"salivary gland condition. It's… Well, bring paper towels." She feels guilty as the words leave her mouth, but the horrified look on Chloe's face gives her a little bit of satisfaction.

"Oh, my God, ew," Chloe says, her hand flying to her mouth.

"But hey, I wish you guys the best," Beca says, her voice dripping with false friendliness.

She's a terrible person.

"Oh, no, we're not…" Chloe says, waving her hand. "I don't really like Luke." Her voice gets quieter, like she's sharing a secret. "I have a thing for his roommate, Jesse."

Beca inhales so sharply that she starts to choke, sputtering and coughing. It doesn't help that it feels like her heart is in her throat.

Chloe _likes_ her.

Except she doesn't, not really. She likes _Jesse_ —or, rather, Beca-as-Jesse. Who isn't a real person.

Chloe has romantic feelings for a concept that doesn't even exist. It kind of makes Beca want to scream.

"I was just going out with Luke to try and make Jesse jealous," Chloe continues, and Beca closes her eyes for a moment.

This is a mess.

"Oh God," Beca mutters, leaning heavily on the sink.

"I know; it's wrong to use a person like that," Chloe says quietly, looking down at her hands. "But I really, really like Jesse." Beca opens her mouth to say something—anything—to stop this train wreck, but Chloe keeps talking. "He's so handsome. And not like the meat-ish, Abercrombie kind of handsome you see in a lot of guys. He's, like, a refined handsome. Almost delicate."

It's the first time Beca's ever been called handsome.

"And when he smiles…" Chloe looks away wistfully. "I just can't stop looking at him."

"Chloe, stop," Beca blurts. It's probably rude, but if Beca has to listen to Chloe say one more word about "Jesse," she thinks she might explode. There's too many emotions swirling around inside of her—joy and sadness and hopefulness and jealousy and guilt. The guilt is the thing that she can't stand: She made a promise to Luke. He held up his end of the deal spectacularly, and here Beca is stabbing him repeatedly in the back.

And the worst part is that she doesn't care.

"This is just too complicated," Beca says. She's not sure if she's talking to Chloe or to herself.

There's a beat of silence. "You're right," Chloe says. "Next time I see Jesse, I'm gonna walk right up to him, tell him my feelings, and then kiss him so hard it'll knock him into next week."

"Um—"

Before Beca can (try to, pray to) get any words out, the door to one of the stalls bangs open, revealing Aubrey.

This isn't good.

"Hello, Beca," Aubrey snaps, marching over to them. "And hello to you, you little homewrecker."

"Excuse me?" Chloe squeaks. "Who are you?"

"I am Jesse's _girlfriend_ ," Aubrey says, sneering.

"Ex-girlfriend," Beca corrects, protectively stepping in front of Chloe.

"Stop saying that," Aubrey huffs, the curls in her blond hair bouncing as she speaks.

"Oh, _you're_ the one that he dumped in the pizza shop the other day," Chloe says, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Uh, _no_ , we're just going through a…" Aubrey pauses. "Rough patch."

Chloe quirks an eyebrow. "I heard he dumped you. Like, _dumped you_ dumped you. You're done." She smirks at the way Aubrey's irritation clearly grows. "Completely and totally done."

Before Beca can blink, Aubrey shoves Chloe—hard—sending her careening back against the sinks.

"Hey!" Beca jumps in between them before it can escalate any further. "Stop it!" Aubrey tries to take a swipe at Chloe, but Beca blocks her hand. " _Now_."

Aubrey takes a visible breath and steps back. "Fine," she says, straightening her dress. "You go ahead and kiss Jesse, and we'll see who he chooses." Then she storms out of the bathroom.

It takes Beca a moment to realize that she's practically standing on top of Chloe. She steps back, putting some space between the two of them.

"Thanks for saving me," Chloe says, rubbing her back where she'd hit the sink.

Beca nods weakly. "No problem."

Now who's going to save _her_?

* * *

Beca spends the next several days on edge, waiting for Chloe to pounce out of nowhere and kiss her.

She can't tell if she's dreading it or looking forward to it.

Sectionals are tomorrow; Beca's time at Barden is almost done. She wonders if Chloe changed her mind.

"Hey," Beca says tiredly when she enters her room, dumping her bag on the floor. "What's up?" she says to Luke.

Silence.

"Hello?" Beca tries.

Luke just continues to stare at his desk. He rubs one hand over his forehead. "You know," he says flatly, "it's crazy how wrong you can be about a person." _Um, what?_ Beca thinks. "You think that they're one way, and they turn out to be the exact opposite."

Beca is confused. She can't tell if Luke is pissed about something or suddenly getting philosophical. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna play dumb with me?" Luke says, and he looks at Beca for the first time since she'd entered the room. His eyes are angry, hurt.

 _He knows I'm not Jesse_ is the first thought on Beca's mind. Honestly, she's surprised it's taken him this long to realize it. "I'm sorry," Beca says—and she is. She's come to genuinely like Luke as a friend in the past couple of weeks, and she'd probably be pretty pissed if she found out somebody she liked—somebody she was _living with_ , no less—was completely lying about who they were. "I am. But a cappella is more important to me than anything else in the world, and I had a point to prove—"

"So you're telling me that you used me to help me with a cappella," Luke interrupts, his voice rising in volume. "and then you turned around and stabbed me in the back."

Now Beca's extremely confused. Could he have found out about her feelings for Chloe? That doesn't seem possible; she hasn't told _anybody_ about that. Not even Stacie. "Wait, what?"

"You know what? Save it," Luke says angrily. "I _saw_ you with her."

"With who?"

"With Chloe, that's who!" Luke shouts, standing up and throwing the pen that was in his hand forcefully onto his desk.

Beca recoils, a pang of fear striking in her chest. She doesn't think that Luke would actually hurt her, but he's a big guy and clearly _very_ angry.

"I saw you kissing her when you got out of the cab!"

"Cab? What cab?" She is ninety-nine-point-nine percent positive that Chloe did _not_ kiss her—she's pretty sure she'd remember that.

"We were supposed to be friends!" Luke says, his voice rough.

"We _are_ friends," Beca insists.

"No, you don't even know the meaning of the word friends." Luke's voice grows cold.

"Okay, fine," Beca admits. The guilt is bubbling up in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She needs to confess her sins before it kills her. "Chloe never liked you. She was just using you to make me jealous."

"And so you went behind my back and kissed her?" The expression on Luke's face is unreadable.

"I never kissed her!"

"I'm sick of your lies," Luke says. Beca's back hits something hard, and she realizes she's been backed right into the wall next to the door. "I don't even want to look at you." Luke wrenches open the door and shoves Beca out of the room.

"There is _nothing_ going on between Chloe and me!" Beca yells. "Luke—"

The door slams shut.

Beca doesn't know what to do. She doesn't think it a good idea to try and go back into her room; Luke clearly needs time to cool off. But sectionals are tomorrow, and she needs somewhere to sleep.

Aimlessly, Beca walks out of the dorm and sits down on a bench outside. She needs some air; she's spent the past week feeling like she's suffocating.

She doesn't realize someone has joined her on the bench until she hears, "Why are you out so late? Are you looking to hide a body?"

Beca jumps and turns to see Lilly. "Um, no," she says, inching away. "I got thrown out of my room."

"Oh," Lilly says. "Do you need somewhere to sleep?"

Against Beca's better judgment, she says, "Yeah." If tomorrow weren't sectionals, she'd take her chances sleeping on this bench. "If you don't mind."

"I don't have a roommate," Lilly tells her. "I sleep upside down like a bat."

"Um, okay." Beca follows Lilly into the girls' dorm. She lives in a room in the farthest corner of the building, and she wonders if that was intentional.

Lilly's room smells faintly of burnt toast, but Beca doesn't let herself think too much about it. It's late, and she has to be up early for the competition tomorrow.

"Make sure I'm up by eight," is the last thing Beca says to Lilly before falling into the spare bed and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Beca jolts awake to sunlight streaming into the room.

It takes her a minute to remember where she is and why, and she sits up, looking frantically at the clock. 9:18.

"Lilly!" Beca snaps, whipping the blanket off of her. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked so peaceful," Lilly says. "Like you were dead."

"Ugh!" Beca huffs, panic rising in her chest. She stuffs her feet into her shoes and takes off, muttering, "Thanks," over her shoulder as she runs out of the room.

Beca sprints as fast as she can to the locker room where she keeps her Treblemakers jacket, smacking into and shoving people out of her way. She can hear the cheers of the audience coming from the auditorium, and she almost starts crying. This is the reason why she's here, and all of the time, effort, and stress _can't_ all have been for nothing.

But when Beca opens her locker, her jacket isn't there.

"Fuck," she mutters, looking around. " _Fuck._ " Beca opens a few more lockers, but she can't find a spare jacket.

Beca bolts back to the auditorium, entering through the back door and sneaking into the wings. The Trebles are just lining up onstage to begin their number, and Beca thinks she's going to be sick. But then she sees—

"Jesse?"

Jesse drifts out onto the stage after the rest of the Trebles, looking out confusedly into the audience.

Things are going from bad to worse _really_ fucking fast.

"Jesse!" Beca hisses, waving her arms. "Jess!"

It's no use; the opening notes are sung and she's drowned out.

What the fuck is he _doing_ here? He's not supposed to come back from London until tomorrow.

It's like those dreams everyone has where they're in their underwear. You watch yourself be embarrassed and confused, but not matter how hard you try, you can't make yourself put on some pants.

That's how Beca feels: She can watch Jesse make a fool of himself—of _Beca_ —onstage, and she can't do anything about it.

Jesse fumbles awkwardly over his feet, trying to match the choreography and failing miserably. He smacks into Luke, who gives him an angry look and mutters something.

Beca drops her head into her hands. She can't watch this.

"Excuse me!"

Beca's head snaps up to see Dr. Tobias, flanked by Bumper and Aubrey, walking out onto the stage. "Stop the performance!"

What the hell…?

The audience titters confusedly as Dr. Tobias commands everyone's attention.

"Is there a problem?" Pieter asks, joining the commotion. He looks incredibly irritated.

"Yes, there actually is," Dr. Tobias says. "But I think Jesse Mitchell should tell you himself." Beca's brows furrow in complete puzzlement. "Jesse. Son. Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

"Uh…" Jesse looks around. "I'm sorry I'm not very good at this…?"

"Well, then," Dr. Tobias says, "please know that what I say I say with a heavy heart." He turns to address the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen," he booms, "esteemed alumni, friends and family of Jesse Mitchell. I am terribly sorry to inform you that Jesse Mitchell…" Beca wrings her hands, craning her neck to see his face. "…is a girl."

Beca almost bursts out laughing. What are the odds that her cover is blown when it actually _is_ Jesse?

"Um, excuse me," Jesse calls to the audience. "I'm not a girl."

"Actually, he is," Dr. Tobias says. "Specifically, he's his sister, Beca, who has been impersonating him for reasons that will become clear after extensive psychoanalysis."

"I'm a BOY!" Jesse yells. "I promise you."

"Oh, yeah?" Bumper challenges. "Prove it."

Before Beca can blink, Jesse shrugs and says, "Okay." And then his pants hit the floor.

"Jesus Christ," Beca mutters, turning away as the crowd erupts into gasps. That is _not_ something she wants to see.

"Okay, thank you," Dr. Tobias says. Beca chances a peek and is grateful to see that Jesse has pulled his pants back up. "Uh, nothing to see here." Then he adds, "No offense."

Beca's pretty sure a woman in the audience just fainted.

"Just, um, talk amongst yourselves for a moment," Dr. Tobias says before turning to Bumper. "BUMPER," he shouts, "can you shed some light on the current situation?"

"Not anymore than has already been shed, sir," Bumper says. It looks like he's crying.

This is hands-down the most bizarre a cappella competition she's ever attended.

"So now that we've established that this boy"—Pieter points to Jesse—"is a boy, can we get on with our performance?"

"Yes, yes, carry on," Dr. Tobias says, scurrying off the stage.

"Let's take a brief intermission, shall we?" Pieter says. "I think we all need a moment to recover from that."

 _Yes!_ Beca thinks. Now is her chance.

But before Jesse can leave the stage, he's pulled aside by Aubrey.

"Hey, baby," she coos, pressing a hand to his chest. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Jesse says, shaking Aubrey off. "We're done."

Aubrey stares at him before groaning in frustration. "Ugh!" She storms away.

Jesse shakes his head and walks into the wings.

Beca takes her chance and yanks him by his collar over to her.

"What the—" Jesse says, turning to look at her. "Beca? Why do you look like me?" he asks in confusion.

"I pretended to be you for the last two weeks so I could prove that I can sing on the boys' a cappella team," Beca explains in a whisper.

"What?"

"I don't have time to tell you the whole story," Beca hisses urgently. "Why are you wearing my costume?"

"I just came here to find the amazing girl that kissed me last night," Jesse says.

"Wait, who kissed you?" Beca asks. "What girl?"

"That one." Jesse points out into the crowd.

Beca follows his gaze and sees… "Chloe?"

"She was all over me," Jesse tells her. "She kissed me and then recited my own lyrics."

Beca buries her face in her hands. _That's_ what Luke was talking about. This is such a _mess_.

She also can't help but feel a bit of disappointment at missing her chance to kiss Chloe, but she pushes the thought out of her mind.

She's got more important things to worry about.

"Just give me my costume," Beca commands, and Jesse starts shrugging out of the jacket and matching maroon t-shirt. Beca's own shirt is just a tad snug on him, but it doesn't look too bad.

"Alright, intermission's over!" Pieter shouts, and Beca hurries out onto the stage with the rest of the group. Her heart is hammering in her chest, but it's a good feeling. It's excitement instead of anxiety.

Beca doesn't even care that she doesn't have a solo; she's made the A team and she's going to help beat East High. That's all that matters.

Their performance of "Bright Lights Bigger City" mashed up with "Magic" goes off without a hitch, and Beca's riding high as they exit the stage and converge in the band room.

"Jesse!"

Beca turns to see Chloe rushing towards her.

"Hey," Chloe says. "That was crazy, huh?" She trails a finger down Beca's chest. (It burns her skin, even through the jacket.)

"Yeah, and you want me to believe that there's nothing going on between you guys," Luke mutters as he walks past them.

"There's nothing going on between Chloe and me!" Beca insists again. Chloe's face falls, and Beca feels terrible, but it's more important for Luke to know the truth. "I didn't lie to you. Well, I did, but not about this."

"What are you talking about?" Luke asks. He doesn't even really sound angry anymore; he sounds tired.

"I'm not Jesse," Beca admits. "I'm Beca."

"You're not Beca," Luke denies. He and Chloe are wearing matching expressions of befuddlement. "I _kissed_ Beca."

"I am," Beca says. "You kissed _me_."

Some of the Trebles have started to gather around them, listening in on the conversation.

"What are you talking about? I didn't kiss you," Luke says, looking embarrassed as a couple of the Trebles chuckle.

Beca glances at Chloe. She has her arms crossed over her chest. Her face is mostly blank, but Beca thinks she can detect some hurt in her eyes.

"The girls' a cappella group at East High got cut, and the guys wouldn't let me on their team," Beca explains, peeling off her sideburns and removing her wig. There are muted gasps amongst the onlookers. "So I've been pretending to be my brother while he was in London for the past two weeks so I could make the team and beat East High."

It feels good to remove the wig and let her hair down, showing everyone who she _really_ is. Beca's missed being herself; she'd never realized it was possible to feel that way.

"But my brother came home early, and that's who you saw kissing Chloe, and that's who was performing before the intermission." Beca looks at Luke pleadingly. "I'm sorry that I lied to you, but I didn't stab you in the back. I didn't want to hurt you. I just wanted to prove that I was good enough."

Luke looks like he's going to say something, but he's cut off by Pieter.

"Results are in! Get back onstage," he shouts, and the Trebles head towards the door.

"I'm sorry," Beca says again.

"I know," Luke says. "I understand why you lied."

Beca nods. She feels better, even if Chloe is still staring at her.

* * *

"Alright," Pieter says into a microphone, looking down at the clipboard in his hand other hand.

Beca holds her breath. She's finally going to find out if this was worth it. If she's good enough.

"The winner of the 2015 East High versus Barden Prep sectional is…" He pauses for effect. "Barden Prep!"

The Trebles erupt into cheers, but Beca just stands there for a moment, blinking.

She did it.

She _did_ it.

She beat East High.

"Fuck yeah!" Beca yells, and Luke holds up his hand for a high five.

"Good work, Bec," he says.

Beca thinks they're going to be okay.

* * *

"Congrats, champ!" Beca is suddenly engulfed in a hug by Stacie. "You did it!"

"I know," Beca says, grinning.

"Well, you're welcome," Stacie says with a wink.

Beca laughs. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"I know," Stacie says. "How does it feel?"

Beca doesn't know how to answer. How _does_ she feel?

Before she can try to figure it out, she sees someone over Stacie's shoulder—two someones, actually.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Beca!" her mother calls, pulling Beca into a hug as her father and Jesse stand off to the side..

This is weird.

"You did all this just to sing?" she asks. She doesn't seem angry; she seems… almost impressed.

"Yeah," Beca says, shrugging. "It's important to me."

"I see that," Beca's mom says, and it lacks it's usual passive-aggressive undertone.

"Wait," Beca's dad says, holding up a hand. "If you"—he points to Beca—"were here for the past two weeks, then where were you?" He points to Jesse.

"He was, uh—" Beca rushes to formulate an excuse.

"I was in London playing my music," Jesse admits.

"London?!" Beca's parents say in unison.

"It was important to me," Jesse says, stealing Beca's line.

Her parents start to argue, but Beca cuts them off. "How about we go to dinner?" she suggests. "Maybe tomorrow? As a family?"

Beca's mother stares at her for a moment. "I suppose I could fit that in." She looks at Beca's dad. "Would you like my cell phone number?"

"Let me give you my e-mail," he replies.

Beca looks at Jesse, and they both laugh.

Who knew that _this_ would get their parents to be civil to one another?

"So what's the deal with you and Chloe?" Jesse asks as their parents walk away.

"Um…" Beca says. What _is_ the deal with her and Chloe? "She likes me. Well, me as you. And I guess she, uh, kissed you?"

"Yeah, she did," Jesse says. "I was kinda confused by that." He looks at Beca curiously. "You like her, don't you?"

"…Maybe a little," Beca says quietly.

"So then what are you waiting for?" Jesse nudges Beca's arm. "Go and kiss her."

"It's not that simple, Jesse," Beca says, stomach twisting at the thought of kissing Chloe. "She doesn't like _me_. She likes me being you, which isn't even a real person!"

"You're being obtuse," Jesse tells her.

"Gee, thanks."

"You being me is still _you_ ," Jesse says. "You just need to talk to her."

Beca hesitates. She doesn't want to get her hopes up only to have Chloe destroy them.

"Look, there she is," Jesse says, pointing. He shoves Beca's shoulder gently.

Beca inhales when Chloe catches her eye. She opens her mouth to call out to her, but Chloe just shakes her head. She looks sad.

And then she walks away.

Beca's heart sinks, and her nose starts to itch in the way it always does before she's about to cry.

"Hey, it's fine," Jesse says brightly. Beca knows he's just trying to make her feel better. "Want to get pizza?"

Beca's not particularly hungry, but she needs a distraction right now.

"Sure, I guess."

* * *

Beca almost forgot that she agreed to this debutante ball thing.

She _would_ have forgotten, had her mother not forcibly dragged her here.

She's not much in the mood, but it's important to her mom.

"I invited Chloe," Stacie tells her as she zips Beca into her dress.

"You did _what_?" Beca demands. "Stacie, why would you do that?"

"She could be your date," Stacie says. She pulls out a makeup brush and dusts blush over Beca's cheekbones.

"Well, she's _clearly_ not coming," Beca grumbles, feeling strangely disappointed. "I thought you were my date, anyway."

"I'm your interim date." Stacie snaps the compact closed.

Beca looks away; Chloe probably never wants to speak to her again, and it stings more than losing to East High would have. She takes a breath, preparing to plaster a smile onto her face and walk arm-in-arm with Stacie across the stage.

"Beca."

The voice is soft but clear. Beca thinks she's imaging things until Stacie yanks on her arm and she turns around.

"Chloe?"

 _Chloe_.

"Hi," Chloe says. She looks beautiful, and for a moment, it takes Beca's breath away.

"What are you doing here?" Beca breathes out as Chloe approaches.

Stacie squeezes her arm and slips out of the dressing room. Beca is grateful.

"Well," Chloe says, looking up at Beca through her eyelashes, "a few days ago I kissed a person whom I _thought_ was this amazing guy, but I didn't feel anything. And now I know why." She takes one of Beca's hands. "I kissed the wrong person."

Beca blinks, stunned. She looks from their joined hands to Chloe's gentle eyes and faint smile and back again. "Chloe, are you sure? I know I said some things that—"

"Beca," Chloe interrupts quietly. "I won't lie; I was hurt when you said that there was nothing going on between us. But I know now that you were just trying to be a good friend. And"—she laughs a little—"it was true. I thought I kissed you, but I didn't."

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," Beca says. "I like you, Chloe," she confesses, not quite meeting Chloe's eyes. She's not great with the whole _sharing her feelings_ thing. "I've liked you since I first met you. But I knew that Luke liked you and I didn't want to hurt him, either."

"I know," Chloe assures her.

"And also… I was worried that you wouldn't like _me_ ," Beca admits. "The real me, not me-pretending-to-be-Jesse me."

"Well," Chloe says, leaning in to whisper in Beca's ear, "I do. And I'd really like to get that kiss now."

Beca's eyes flutter shut, just for a moment, and her stomach dips. But it's not the uncomfortable, anxious feeling that has been plaguing her for the past two weeks—it's good. It's excited. It's _wanting_.

Just as she's leaning in, Beca's mother appears at the door. "Showtime!" she shouts, clapping her hands.

Beca groans, resting her forehead against Chloe's.

Chloe giggles. "I guess we should go."

"I hate my mother," Beca grumbles as Chloe tugs her by the hand out the door.

* * *

Beca stands in the wings of the stage at the country club, watching Tom and Aubrey walk arm-in-arm down its center.

 _They're perfect for each other_ , Beca thinks sardonically. She can see Chloe opposite her across the stage. She gives her a tiny wave.

"Beca Mitchell," her mother announces, loud and clear, "with Chloe Beale."

 _Just don't trip_ , Beca repeats in her head over and over as she crosses the stage towards Chloe, the light illuminating her from behind in a way that makes her look angelic.

Beca reaches for Chloe's hand, and Chloe grabs it. But she tugs Beca in close to her, wraps her free hand around the back of Beca's neck, and pulls Beca in for a kiss.

Beca stands stiffly for a moment; she's never been one for PDA, and this is a _very_ public display of affection. But she's kissing Chloe—she's _kissing_ Chloe, really, truly, and finally—and she sinks into the touch, hoping the audience can't hear her whimper when Chloe tugs her lower lip between her teeth when she pulls away.

Chloe walks with her, hand in hand, down the steps of the stage as the guests whistle and cheer.

Beca blushes, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as they walk to their table. Across the room, she can see Luke looking very enthralled in a conversation with Stacie, and her mother is beaming up at the podium onstage.

And Chloe is looking at her, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted, like Beca is the only guy in the room.

 _Girl_. Like she's the only girl in the room.

Beca's still adjusting.

* * *

 _See we got nowhere to run and we got no where to go_

 _True love is all I need and to never to be alone_


End file.
